Mr. Monk Gets Even (15 page)

“Of course not,” Monk said. His arms were crossed and he was shifting his weight from side to side. “That was the whole idea from the start.”

“I just came back a few minutes ago to check on them, to see if they were all right after the move,” Dr. Auerbach said. “Cannon and McCabe were here, but Biederback was gone.”

“Is this the only door into the ward?” Stottlemeyer asked.

Claire shook her head. “This all just happened. We didn’t get a chance to scope out the room or cover the door.”

“Could Dale have walked out of here on his own?” Monk asked.

“Absolutely not,” Dr. Auerbach said.

“So he had to have had help,” Devlin said. “He couldn’t have left here unless it was on a gurney, and somebody had to be pushing it.”

Stottlemeyer shook his head. “But none of our officers have seen anybody rolled out of here. Maybe he hasn’t left the building yet.”

The captain got on his cell and ordered more officers to the hospital for a room-by-room search.

“You’re wasting your time,” Monk said. “Whatever Dale’s plan was, he’s already pulled it off.”

“We don’t know that, Monk,” Stottlemeyer said.

“I do,” Monk said.

“If he’s escaped, he’s put his life in jeopardy,” Dr. Auerbach said. “With all the fluids and blood that he’s lost, he could die without close observation, the proper care, and the right medications. Even if he survives, there’s a high risk of wound dehiscence and infection.”

“He would know all that,” Devlin said.

“He’s had months to plan this,” Monk said. “He also has the financial resources to build his own personal ICU somewhere in the city.”

“Setting that ICU up, getting the equipment and the meds will have left a trail,” Devlin said. “And he’d still have to staff it. So we’re looking for at least one accomplice, maybe two. Possibly three or four if you count whoever sent the truck rolling down Powell Street and a dirty doctor to watch over him.”

“Or one person with medical training who created the accident, got him out of here, and is caring for him now,” Monk said.

“Anybody but me find it convenient that Dr. Wiss went on vacation today?” Devlin asked.

“Dr. Wiss has the utmost integrity,” Dr. Auerbach said. “What you are suggesting is unthinkable.”

“Check it out,” Stottlemeyer said to Devlin, ignoring Auerbach’s protest. “But I am not ready to accept that Dale is gone yet. He and his accomplices, no matter how many he’s got, might still be in the process of sneaking him out. We’re going to search every inch of this building and every vehicle coming or going from here.”

Monk shook his head. “You’re wasting your time, Leland. He’s outsmarted us. He’s gone.”

Julie remembered the way Dale had looked at her and hoped that Monk was wrong.

• • •

Dozens of cops descended on the hospital, covering every exit and searching the building floor by floor, room by room, the entire effort coordinated by Stottlemeyer and Devlin.

Monk remained strangely detached from the whole thing as it was unfolding. Instead of walking the hospital, doing his Monk-Zen thing, looking for whatever might be out of place, he planted himself on a waiting room chair and just stared at the wall across from him.

He was sulking like a child.

Julie sat beside him, frustrated, helpless, and a little scared. So she texted me, told me about Dale’s escape, and asked for my advice.

I wasn’t surprised to hear that Dale had escaped and I can’t imagine that Monk was, either.

All I could do was tell her what I’d say to Monk if I were sitting there with him. She took my talking points to heart and gave it a shot.

“It’s not your fault,” she told him after a long, silent hour had passed.

“I should never have left the hospital. I knew he’d try to escape.”

“You thought the captain had it under control.”

“I should have known that he was deluding himself,” Monk said. “Instead, I deluded myself, too.”

“Dale was gutted and under guard,” she said. “It was hard to imagine how he could possibly escape under those circumstances.”

“And that’s exactly how he fooled us,” Monk said.

“You’ll catch him,” she said.

“I’m not so sure,” Monk said.

“You’ve caught every killer you’ve gone after.”

“Solving murders is one thing, Julie. Catching wanted fugitives in something else entirely. I’m not a tracker. Dale has had a long time to plot his escape. I’m sure he’s anticipated every move we’re going to make.”

“You’re giving him too much credit,” she said. “You’ve foiled his plots every time, even when he tried to frame you for murder and arrange the assassination of the governor, just so the lieutenant governor, who was in his pocket, could take office and pardon him. This can’t be any more intricately planned than that bizarre scheme was.”

Monk shook his head. “He’s undoubtedly learned from his mistakes and studied the ways I caught him before. He is not going to repeat the past.”

“Don’t forget, he’s at a disadvantage. He’s been gutted on a surgical table and needs to recuperate. All you have to do is figure out where he is now and what he’s going to do next.”

“He will try to destroy me, the captain, and everybody that’s close to the two of us,” Monk said.

Julie knew that included her and me, and that made her stomach cramp. “By destroy, do you mean kill?”

Monk shook his head. “Dale only kills as a means to an end, to achieve a larger, more satisfying goal. Take today, for instance. He had an accomplice create that deadly accident, not to kill people, but as a diversion for his escape. He’s a megalomaniac. It’s all about control. He delights in crafting exquisitely complex ways to make his enemies suffer. Killing them would take all the fun out of it.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because he’s never tried to kill me and I’m his archenemy,” Monk said. “His goal is to crush my spirit.”

Julie stood up and faced him. “Well, it looks to me like he’s already succeeded.”

Monk shook his head. “This is only the beginning.”

“Not if you suck it up and go after his ass.”

He looked up at her. “There’s no need for profanity.”

“If this isn’t a situation that calls for it, I don’t know what the hell is.”

“Your mom would be shocked if she heard you now.”

“My mom wouldn’t let you wallow in pathetic self-pity,” Julie said and kicked his chair. “She’d make you man up.”

“Have you met me?” Monk asked.

Stottlemeyer and Devlin approached them. Their faces were drawn with weariness and anger.

“I think we’ve discovered how Dale left the building,” Devlin said. “He died.”

“Excuse me?” Monk said.

“He left here in a body bag,” Stottlemeyer said. “A dead patient named Walter Groh was picked up by Buffman Brothers. It turns out that the real Walter Groh’s body is still in the hospital morgue and the Buffman Brothers reported their hearse stolen yesterday. We didn’t have anybody checking to see that the body bags leaving the hospital actually contained corpses.”

“Give yourself a break, Captain,” Devlin said. “Our officers thought Dale was in his bed. There was no reason to check body bags.”

“I left a door open,” Stottlemeyer said. “This escape is on me.”

“He had inside help,” Monk said.

“We ran background checks on everybody on his surgical and post-op team,” Stottlemeyer said. “They all came out clean, and they are all here and accounted for.”

“And it wasn’t Dr. Wiss,” Devlin said. “I called the cops in Hawaii. They found him at his hotel and sent me a picture of him so we could confirm the ID.”

“It could have been one of the paramedics who brought in a victim from the accident,” Monk said. “There was no way you could have anticipated this particular scenario and checked out every first responder in the city.”

Stottlemeyer’s cell phone rang. He looked at the caller ID.

“Tell that to the chief of police.”

He walked away and took the call out of earshot of Devlin and the others. But from his body language, it was clear that the captain was getting his head handed to him.

The three of them watched, feeling his pain. Devlin spoke up, drawing their attention away from the captain.

“Dale must have had contact with one or more of his accomplices while he was in prison,” Devlin said. “I’ll contact the warden and get his visitor logs and whatever mail he’s received.”

Monk sighed. “Don’t you think Dale is aware that’s the first thing we’d do?”

“I’ll also contact drug companies and medical equipment suppliers, find out if they’ve had any unusual purchases or thefts.”

“Another obvious move,” Monk said.

“Do you have a better idea?” Devlin asked.

Monk stayed silent, which was all the answer Devlin needed. Stottlemeyer ended his call and dragged himself over, a beaten man.

“The chief wasn’t very happy to hear that a convicted killer is loose in the city,” Stottlemeyer said. “I told him that Dale is unlikely to be running around committing any mayhem, at least not for now, but that didn’t make the news go over any better.”

“What’s the chief going to do?” Devlin asked.

“Hold a press conference as soon as possible. As embarrassing as this is for the department, he thinks it’s imperative that we notify the public and get Dale’s face out there so everybody in San Francisco is on the lookout for him.”

“Dale isn’t going to be out in public for weeks,” Monk said. “And even if he is, what are you going to use for a picture?”

“Well, we’ll use his—” Stottlemeyer stopped himself and grimaced. “The bastard looks completely different now, doesn’t he? Damn. We’ll get Dr. Auerbach to sit down with a police artist, work up a rendering of what a thin Dale would look like without his bandages.”

“It’s pointless,” Monk said.

“What would you like us to do, Monk?” Stottlemeyer said.

“Turn back time,” Monk said.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Mr. Monk Has a Blast

W
hile all the detectives at the station tried to shake down some leads, there really wasn’t much for Monk to do but clean Devlin’s desk.

And since Devlin was off at San Quentin, searching Dale’s jail cell and getting the visitor logs, she wasn’t around to complain about it.

Stottlemeyer stayed in his office, fielding one call after another, sometimes juggling two at once, one on his desk phone and another on his cell.

Julie sat in a chair and played games on her iPhone.

The captain rushed out of his office. “Monk, we’ve got something. I got a call from Amy. Dale had love letters from a girlfriend. Her name is Stella Chaze.”

“What could any woman possibly see in him?” Monk asked, directing the question to Julie.

“Why are you asking me?” Julie said. “I think he’s repulsive.”

“Some women find revulsion and fear incredibly exciting,” Stottlemeyer said. “Haven’t you noticed that convicted serial killers always have women lining up to marry them? In this case, it probably doesn’t hurt that he’s also obscenely rich.”

“He’s obscene all the way around,” Julie said.

“Though there’s not so much around his around anymore,” Monk said. “He’s not Dale the Whale anymore.”

“Dale the Frail,” Stottlemeyer said. “Stella visited him dozens of times, even appealed to the warden for conjugal visits.”

“I think I may be sick,” Julie said.

“She’s a graphic designer who works out of her home in Potrero Hill,” Stottlemeyer said, heading for the door. “It’s real close to the hospital.”

Monk and Julie hurried after him.

“This is too easy,” Monk said.

“I’m not expecting Dale to be staying in her guest room,” Stottlemeyer said. “But I’m sure she knows something.”

“Whatever she knows is what Dale knows she knows and wants us to know,” Monk said. “You know that, right?”

Stottlemeyer stopped and turned to face him. “You’re right. So let’s not bother.”

“Really?” Monk asked.

“Hell no,” Stottlemeyer said. “Are you coming or not?”

Monk nodded and the captain continued on his way.

• • •

Stella Chaze lived on a quiet, upscale residential street in a small one-story house with a new Lexus parked in the driveway. It was an older home but so well kept that it looked as if it had been built yesterday. The yard was nicely landscaped and maintained.

This was not at all what Julie had expected. She’d pictured a rotting dump with peeling paint, a tarp over a hole in the roof, and a yard filled with trash, junked cars, and overgrown weeds.

Stottlemeyer pulled up in his car, followed by two black-and-white patrol cars. He directed the two officers in the first car to go around back and stationed the other two out front. Then he, Monk, and Julie went to the door.

The captain rang the bell. A woman in her thirties opened the door. She was tall and slim and wearing nothing but a pair of stylish glasses and a small Band-Aid on her left arm.

Julie was expecting a crazy, overweight, stringy-haired woman with bad skin donned in a flowered blouse and smoking a cigarette.

But at least Julie got the crazy part right, or so it appeared.

Monk immediately turned his head and shielded his eyes from the harsh glare of her nakedness with his hand, which prompted a delighted laugh from her.